


An affair with a flame

by altershego



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Slight Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:59:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9081487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altershego/pseuds/altershego
Summary: Charlie's love for fire begins young.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first oneshot so I hope you enjoy!

1.

It's sensual, the allure of a flame.

He remembers being young, naïve and innocent. Fragile skin kissed by freckles, taunted by the siren's flame, until his finger tips are just too close, the warmth too intense. 

His mother yelps, knocking his hand away and he hears muffled shouting. But all he can feel is the lingering presence that the fire has. It's nothing more than a caress, a mere lick but he's hooked. 

The pain sends a thrill through him, every nerve ending firing up, charged with unknown energy.

His mother is pulling his arm and leading him away but he turns back, green eyes trained on the flickering flame.

2.

He rolls to the left, easing into the westward breeze before rising up, the broomstick within his two hands fully under his control. He is metres off the ground and miles away from home, the isolation welcoming him as he coasts up to the beast before him. His skin is still the same as before, stretched over bones and muscles as he has aged, but the freckles remain prominent stains. They are joined by jagged scars and burns, a crude attempt at art on a breathing body, but he worships the masterpiece all the same, each tarnish unlocking a story. 

He pats the scales twice, firmly, drawing the beasts attention before beginning his journey back. It huffs, smoke billowing out from it's orifices. Relishing in the warmth, he sinks into it, pushing his body to the brink before pushing up into the cool breeze. The wind whistles past his ears, screaming incoherent words into his mind, but he is well conversed in it's tongue, dancing to it's beat as he rises and falls with the changing breeze.

3.

He craves a thrill. 

His mother worries for him, when he returns on his rare trips home. From fresh scars to tattoos, she fears his next endeavour, the next limit he will push and whether he will be able to break it, or will his luck escape his scorched finger tips and for him to break instead.

"Settle down, Charlie." She says, with tired eyes and a weary smile. He dwarfs her frame, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head upon her shoulder. Leathery skin wraps around his wrist as she squeezes him and they sway in a thoughtful silence. 

His eyes are trained on the fireplace, the slow burn of the wood, stripping itself layer by layer, succumbing the flame. It dances before him, teasing him with it's promiscuous flickering.

4.

His favourite colour is yellow. 

She wears black.

It's coated on her nails and handing off her shoulders, shifting as she raises her glass to her lips. His own drink is in his hand, but he is intoxicated by her frame. She's small and new, vulnerable to this dirty bar, with it's filthy counters and filthier inhabitants. 

But he see's the flame. It's hidden in her eyes, black rimmed and narrowed. It's a dangerous sort of fire she possesses, one that can't be tamed with water. It's the type must burn itself down to ashes.

He downs his drink, the burn preparing him for what to come as he stalks across the room, eyes trained on the wild beast.

5.

She burns.

Her hands tug at his grown out hair, whilst her tongue sizzles against his own, warm and languid. The leather of her skirt shifts as he tugs her closely, his entire body enveloping her as he delves a hand into her underwear. She's practically scorching, two fingers slipping knuckle deep within her easily and fuck, she is so wet and he loves that.

Her head drops to his shoulder and her pants are hot on his neck. He keeps going, whispering in her ear how fucking hot this is and the way he is gonna fuck you all night, baby, so hard for you right now and she is whining like a broken record yes, yes yES!

She comes hard in the disabled toilets, pure molten lava coating his fingers as she sags slightly in his hold.

"Welcome to Romania."

6.

He only see's her in two places; in the bar and in his bed. He's asked around about a girl with fire in her eyes and mirth on her lips but she isn't identified.

"Pansy?" His voice is thick with the need for sleep and exertion from fucking her.

"Yeah?" Smoke practically unfurls from her lips and although she says she doesn’t smoke, her raspy voice makes him doubt her words.

"Who are you?" She laughs, head thrown back in delight. The sheets fall from her chest as she rolls onto him, lowering herself until her lips are a breath away from his own.

"I don't know anymore."

7.

He's home for the holidays.

His hands are busy toying with a lighter, something he stole from his father's collection of 'toys', the flame sparking and then going out rhythmically.

His attention is on the flame, tuned out from the discussion until he hears a distinct name.

"-nsy Parkinson chipped to Romania apparently. Good luck with that bint, Charlie." He snaps his attention to his brother, who is being scolded for his language. Curious, he nudges Harry, nodding towards Ron once before asking-

"Who is Pansy Parkinson?"

8.

He only tastes fire with her. She drips down his chin as he licks her weeping cunt. She writhes on his bed, fingers scrunching up the sheets, her hair, his hair. Tugging and pulling on whatever she can find. She shudders, coming spectacularly on his tongue before sinking into the mattress. He wipes her essence off his face with the back of his hand before sliding up her body. She has a sedated smile on her lips and she pushes up slightly to kiss him but he pulls back.

"Pansy," She grins, lips parting to make a remark, but he cuts her off, "the girl who dobbed Harry in." 

She freezes, shuttering up instantly. It's a sight, the way she seals up her emotion, the sparks in her eyes forming cool flames and her face turning cold. He assesses her, taking in her every movement and waiting for her to react. 

"I'll show myself out." She makes a move to leave but he presses against her, his hardening cock digging into her thigh as he holds her gaze.

"No, you'll stay." There is a moment, where they simply look at the other, then she is crumbling, the fire doused by salty tears that trickle down her cheeks. 

"She died a long time ago. Pansy Parkinson is dead." She says and it sounds so rehearsed he knows she is saying for herself more than to him. "I didn’t want… I was just so scared."

He gets it, it was a war fought by students, teenagers whose biggest fear should be failing their next O.W.L and not failing to counteract a curse heading straight for them. 

It was a war fought by children. 

He scoops her up easily, her head resting against his chest, tucked under his chin.

Because sometimes the wildest beasts need taming and the strongest flame needs protecting. He smooth's down her hair, shushing her as he comforts her.

"I believe you."

9.

He tugs the yellow ribbon from her hair, letting it fall loose and she whirls around with a gasp. Scowling, she slaps his shoulder, but he is quick, catching her hand and tugging her into him.

"I like it down." He mutters lowly, forehead resting against hers.

"I like it up." She retorts, a smile twitching against the corner of her lips.

"Oh really?" Fingers twitch by her waist and she knows that the dinner plans they had will be pushed back at least an hour.

"Uh huh." She hums and he's already ducking his head into her neck to leave a trail of kisses.

"So what are we going to do about it?" They're walking backwards, until the back of her knees touch the bed.

"I have a few plans."

When they finally kiss, Charlie swears that his whole body ignites on fire-

And he doesn't mind the burn.


End file.
